Surrogacy
by DraejonSoul
Summary: Follow Flack after the events in Charge of this Post... Set after the Season 2 finale... Oneshot, contains possible spoilers.
1. Down Time Out

_Disclaimer: All the characters belong tothe creators of the show. I promise to return them in pristine condition. _

Thanks to **iluvroadrunner** for the quick beta!

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_**SURROGACY **_

"Ow. Son of a _biiitch_."

As much as he cared to admit, he needed to stop this. Barely covering thirty meters of Strawberry Fields, Donald Flack, Jr. never thought he could cuss so much in his life.

_I used to cover two miles easy,_ he thought as he gingerly bent over to catch his breath. He never thought he got this out of shape since his confinement more than a month ago. He had been released two weeks before, and the first thing he thought of doing was getting some sense of normalcy back in his life. He had been warned not to push himself just because he was getting out of the hospital, but Flack couldn't resist testing the rules a little.

He shuffled to a nearby bench and sat carefully, feeling the tug at his side. He decided to give in for now, or he'll take a cab the rest of the way home.

Flack didn't really know what possessed him to take a jog around the area. He missed the city, he supposed, taking in the sights around him. He fished out his water bottle and took slow swallows, still looking about.

His wandering gaze fell on a guy obviously in a hurry on his way to work. Flack mentally groaned. The man must be out of his mind to walk this way, dressed as spiffy as he was: from his slick helmet of hair, down to his Italian shoes, he was a thief magnet. He just as well should have worn a sign saying "Mug me". He idly wondered if he got stuck in the rush hour traffic and thought of walking the rest of the way. Bad, bad move if the guy asked him.

Sure enough, a quick movement off the man's right, a figure burst out of his cover, gun trained at the business suit. They exchanged a few words Flack couldn't catch, then voices were raised even as the suit offered his briefcase to the mugger. The perp was shaking his head, taking aim.

The detective in him took quick stock of the situation. The perp was clearly not after the money. Something was definitely going down if he didn't do anything.

Flack didn't even think twice as he went reached for his ankle holster. It was a good thing he was always packing heat. "Hey!"

He quickly dove for cover behind a trash bin as the shot rang a few inches from him. Too damn close! He was definitely losing his touch. He was about to identify himself when a familiar shout of "NYPD!" came from a distance. He chanced a peek and saw a patrol officer with his gun drawn.

"He's got a gun!" Flack yelled out a warning, if the gunshot was not a giveaway enough; one can't be too sure.

He heard an oath from where the mugger was, then another shot was fired. This time, it found a target when he heard a cry.

Flack's stomach lurched. He didn't hear the uniform call out another warning...

His own weapon out, he stood and faced the perp. The guy, roughly around his late twenties, used the suit as a shield, his gun at the man's head.

"Don't be stupid, man," Flack warned, casting a quick glance where the patrol had fallen. Seeing him move was a positive sign. But who knows how much time he has.

The perp darted nervous glances at Flack and the fallen officer. "It didn't have to be this way," he cried, waving the gun in the downed cop's direction. "He got in the way."

_Sure. Blame the cops. How convenient._

"You. Help him," Flack called out to a frozen passerby close to the wounded officer. "Do it!"

The poor woman fixed haunted eyes at him, before nodding nervously as she moved to comply.

"Try stopping the bleeding," Flack commanded in a milder tone. He felt rather than saw the woman nod her head again.

Tightening his grip on his gun, Flack tried to reason with the man.

"Relax, buddy. Like you said, it doesn't have to end this way." He slowly edged out of his hiding place in an attempt to cover the distance between him and his fallen comrade.

The motion only made perp tense up and tighten his hold on his victim.

Flack paused. "What's y'name, pal?" he asked casually.

"Why should I tell you?" His face was contorted in a mixture of fear and frustration.

The detective gave a light shrug. "Oh, I dunno. Usually ask that when I'm in the getting-to-know-you stage."

"Don't mess with me, asshole," his voice held a shrill warning.

Flack put up a hand. "Hey. I just wanted to know you, man. No harm in that, huh?"

"This is none of your business, _pal_," the perp shot back. "Just turn around, and take care of him." He nodded to the officer he shot.

"Well, you got me at a disadvantage here," Flack pointed out. "Let him go, and then I'll oblige ya."

He shook his head in obvious defiance. "Not until I got what I came for."

This time Flack was also shaking his head. "Don't do it, man..." He lowered slightly, sighting the guy down his gun. No clear shot.

The man was starting to back away slowly, still taking his hostage with him. This time, the suit decided to struggle from his grip. The guy had a few good inches over his captor, and broader shoulders to boot. Still, it wasn't a good reason to test your luck.

"Quit squirming, you fucking s--"

He was cut off with an elbow to the ribs, making him loosen his hold. The suit saw his chance, and broke free from his captor. The perp was about to shoot the man as Flack made the shot, clipping the perp on his shooting arm.

The minute the gun flew from his hand, the perp scrambled to run.

"Hey!" _Ah, jeez..._ It was just what he needed!

He quickly strode to the writhing patrolman. "Buddy, you still with us?" he asked as he struggled with the radio on the other's belt clip. He was rewarded with an agonized groan.

"Ma'am, please stay with him. Backup's on the way," he assured her, before sprinting after the perp.

"This is Det. Donald Flack. I have an officer down at Strawberry Fields, and am in pursuit of a suspect," he radioed in. "Request for backup..."

As Flack guessed, the wound has slowed his quarry, but not by much. He gritted against the increasingly burning sensation in his torso that threatened to tear him in half, and spurred on.

He caught sight of his man as he ducked to a side street. Already laboring in his breathing, Flack followed suit.

He thought he collided with a wall as he rounded the corner, but found himself being hauled to the side of the building, knocking air out of him. Then a knee connected to his stomach, making him cry out in pain. He was seeing stars behind closed lids, and felt himself slipping to the pavement.

_Breathe. I need to breathe— _

It hurt too much to take in even the smallest amount of air, but he couldn't get the heaviness off his chest even as he struggled to push it away. The lack of oxygen was making him feel disoriented that he gave up standing.

Maybe if he lay still for a couple of seconds, the pain would go away...

... and in the next conscious moment, he was breathing easily once more. But something slick and cool was covering his face. He tried to swipe it away.

"Bad idea, Flack," he heard a voice say, just as a hand stopped his from taking the offending thing that was in his face.

It took a few seconds before Flack was able to associate the voice with its owner. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

"Stel?" He was confused. What was she doing here? A blurry figure came to his line of vision. Squeezing his eyes to refocus, the sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach returned when he recognized the newcomer.

His hand was on the oxygen mask again, slipping it from his face. "Am I going to detention again?" he asked, glancing at them both.

Stella Bonasera crossed her arms. "Cute. How very perceptive of you," she answered evenly, but her eyes betrayed her amusement. Of his retort or his situation, Flack couldn't tell.

"Wh... who called you in?" That damned sinking feeling just wouldn't go away. Not good at all.

"Oh, we happened to be in the area," Stella supplied breezily, "then we happened to see you just zip past us without even a hello."

She gave him a warm smile. Flack learned never to give in to her frighteningly disarming smile. A smile she used when dealing with a suspect.

"Flack, what were you thinking?" It was Mac Taylor's turn to ask, with a reproving shake of his head.

"I thought I'd take a little jog around the park--"

"Little jog?" Stella's brows quirked up as she smiled again, a challenging tone in her voice.

Flack winced at the slip. "Well, I wanted to get some air, so I thought of going out," he began, clearing his throat. "Then this kid popped out of nowhere and threatened the guy. A uniform happened to pass by, but he failed to control the situation. What else can I do?" He looked pleadingly at the CSIs.

Stella didn't reply, but looked on to Mac.

"Call for back-up and let them chase the suspect?" Mac suggested hopefully. "That's the most logical thing to do under the circumstances, don't you think?"

Flack sighed softly. "I did. Mac, I'm fine. I could've handled the perp..."

Mac's frown deepened. "That's not what this tells me," he answered with a wave of his hand. "Don..."

Flack stiffened slightly at the use of his name. This usually meant Mac wanted to get his attention. His full attention.

"... you just got released from the hospital. You need some time before things can get back to normal."

"Too much too soon. I know that," Flack responded with a slow nod, echoing the doctor's words to him. As he can recall, Mac was there, too, when he was released from the hospital.

"Are you breathing all right now?" the older detective solicitously inquired.

He noticed Mac's changing the subject and not letting this matter stretch longer than necessary. Flack appreciated it for giving him the chance to escape.

"Yeah, I'm good." He looked directly at Mac, hoping the underlying meaning of his words sink in. Yeah, he's good for now. And he'll cope.

Flack tried to ease himself up to a sitting position, but Stella's hand stilled him.

"Not so fast, cowboy," she admonished when he swayed slightly, pushing him gently back to the gurney. "For being such a good boy, you're going for a ride." Her infernal grin widened.

It was then Flack finally took a real look around, and realized that he was already inside the ambulance. "You're shitting me," he let out with a groan, eyes imploring at his colleagues. "I'm telling you guys, I'm all good." He looked from one to the other helplessly. "Stella, Mac..."

Both seemed to ponder it for what seemed like the better part of an hour, looking thoughtfully at each other.

"Guys, please..."

It might have been the wheedling that made them give in, because they turned to face him, the decision reached.

"We can offer you a ride to the hospital, if you promise never to pull a stunt like this again?" Stella proposed.

A smirk found its way to his lips. "Can't make a cop make that kind of promise now, can you?"

Mac gave an exasperated sigh. "Flack..."

He raised both hands. "Okay, okay. You got me. I'll... do my best. Fair enough?"

Mac looked like he seriously considered his offer. "I suppose that will do."

Flack smiled in his thanks.

"I suppose it would be easy to do," Stella piped in, her charming smile back in full, "seeing that your badge is under our custody." She waved his badge at him with a victorious little grin. Why, the little minx!

Before Flack could reach out in a vain attempt to retrieve his shield, Stella tossed it over to Mac, who pocketed it while stifling a grin of his own.

"This stays with me till you're in the clear," Mac stated. "So until then," he trained his full gaze at him, "try to enjoy your vacation while you can."

He looked from one to the other. They can't confiscate his badge... can they? He was shaking his head at them, only to be returned with a nod from both.

"You guys are ruthless, you know that?" Flack couldn't help but blurt out.

Mac cocked his head slightly to the side in acknowledgment. "We do our best," he no longer tried to hide his amusement. "Thacker will take your statement, and then you can ride with us to Trinity. Do we have a deal?"

Flack stared numbly at them, speechless.

"Don?"

"Yeah, I heard ya," he acknowledged grudgingly, thankful that he was now allowed to sit up from the gurney. Stella's hand was quickly on his shoulder, and Flack gave a nod of assurance, patting her hand.

"Wait for us in the SUV when you're done here, 'kay?" Stella instructed him.

With a slow melodramatic sigh, Flack replied, "Yes, Ma."

He didn't think Stella would take offense at his jibe, but she didn't have to ruffle his hair the way she just did. Mac merely looked on, clearly enjoying himself.

Flack shot them a withered smile as they walked away to their crime scene. He followed them with his eyes until Det. Thacker showed up.

He didn't like the smarmy grin his fellow detective was wearing. Flack was ready to throw the oxygen mask in the other's face if he so uttered a snide remark. He turned to look in the direction Flack's eyes were on.

"Parents let you off lightly this time?" His dancing eyes rested on Flack.

He changed his mind about chucking the mask. He was too tired to keep up, anyway. "Shuddup, Thacker. Get to work."

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Feedback's much appreciated!


	2. Shoot First, Ask Questions Later

_This section was supposed to be a standalone one-shot deal, but I guess it fit with the premise. _

_Please do review! Well-rounded critique is always more than welcome._

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Chapter 2: Shoot First, Ask Questions Later**

As was expected of a New York precinct, it was constantly thrumming with activity. People were coming in an out of the office, either on call, collaring a perpetrator, or making out their reports. It was controlled chaos in such seemingly small space. Everybody was preoccupied with their own dilemma, neither aware nor caring that one particular desk seemed to be languidly observing the commotion with growing indifference.

He bit his lip, the urge to look at his watch very, very strong. He could not recall the number of times he looked at the time in a span of a minute. Don Flack was not even sure what he was anxious about, anymore. For the day to end? For someone to give him field work? More paperwork? Oh, he's had enough of paperwork to last him his lifetime.

Flack leaned back in his chair, with an unfocused gaze fixed somewhere on his computer screen. He resisted the temptation to even open a desktop game, either. About a week ago, someone offered to install a new game to keep him busy, so to speak. But Flack demurred; he was never one to be good at such things, anyway. As far as he was concerned, him and computers are not in friendly terms. And he was not going to start to get to know it now.

What he needed was to get out. Do something. Flack felt like he was growing calluses on his behind for doing desk duty. He asked for it, after all: it was either this or inane programs on TV, or listening to his neighbors. His captain had suggested that he take a vacation somewhere warm, said something to the effect of "getting a life". Flack was beginning to regret not taking that advice.

And staying with his parents was definitely not an option. He wasn't sure which would kill him first: his mother's constant coddling, or his father's bullheadedness.

In his restlessness, his eyes 'happened' to rest on the wall clock across the squad room. He had more or less one more hour to go before he headed home.

"Some of us are just so damn lucky," someone remarked as the figure walked by his desk.

Flack looked up in time to see Det. Vicaro. "Well, the rest of us ain't that lucky to have a hole in their gut, eh?" he shot back at his departing form.

Vicaro stopped, and slowly turned to face the younger detective.

"Sorry, that was kinda low blow," was his gruff response, not directly looking at Flack.

"Nah, forget about it," Flack waved it off. He hated having to remind someone of that little fact. "I'm just--damn, I just can't stand this sitting around deal when I should be out there, y'know what I'm sayin'?"

Vicaro glanced behind him, then approached his desk. "Yeah, I hear ya, man," he acknowledged, parking himself at the edge of Flack's desk. "Just that, looking at you waiting for something to happen in a place like this"--he gestured at the chaos around them--"who wouldn't want to be in your place, huh?"

Flack held back the hot retort in his tongue, knowing what Vicaro was trying to get at. Just like this great city of theirs, the precinct never seemed to sleep, and was always alive with some activity or other. Didn't he wish he had time on his hands like this?

Not weeks and weeks with nothing to do! he answered his own thoughts.

"Yeah." Flack stretched back in his chair as much as he could, hands clasped behind his head.

"I'm sure the Chief's as frustrated as hell with what to do with ya, if it's any consolation," Vicaro offered with a sly grin.

Flack offered a withered smile, then slapped Vicaro's leg off his desk. "Why don't you get outta here, while I find something better to do than talk to your ugly mug."

Vicaro let out a short laugh and cuffed Flack playfully on the shoulder before walking away. Alone with his own devices again, Flack gave his desk a once-over before finally standing up. He was tired of staring at his space for a whole damn day. It disturbed him to think that he got to organize his workspace to perfection. Five times. He really needed to get out of there.

He initially thought of going up the crime lab and bug his friend, Danny, but Flack remembered that he had been called away with Mac and Monroe on a case two hours ago. The break room was not a good option, either; that was where he spent half his day during the first two days he got back from sick leave.

There was only one place he had in mind, so Flack headed for the roof where a basketball ring had been set up. He might get chewed out for technically slacking off while on duty, but he didn't care.

He picked up the basketball from the storage room before heading out on the roof. What Flack didn't expect when he got there was company. Stella was there, standing off to the right, a picture of quiet contemplation as she seemed to stare off to the city's expanse before here.

Flack cleared his throat, the noise making Stella turn.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Oh, hey, Flack," she returned with a genial smile.

"Whatcha doing up here by yourself?" he queried, coming up to her side.

"Nothing, I just needed some air." She slowly turned back to where she was staring off to.

"Slow day?"

Stella spared him a glance of disbelief. "On a day like this? Hardly," she replied with a dry chuckle. "I just got back from a crime scene with Hawkes. Six-year -old girl was gunned down in front of her little brother while they were out playing." She clasped her arms about her. "Looked like a random shooting. Hawkes is down at the coroner's office with the little girl's body."

"Stella," Flack cut in slowly. "You don't have to tell me if you don't wanna talk about it. This is what you came up here for, isn't it?"

A soft mirthless laugh escaped from Stella, as a ghost of a smile tugged at her lips. Her reaction was answer enough.

"Well, what are you doing up here?" It was her turn to ask, then glanced down at the ball in his hands. "Playing hooky?"

"I've been doing that all day," he quipped. "I'm just gonna make it official." He hefted the ball in one hand. "One-on-one?"

Stella looked at him as if he was joking. "Are you serious?"

"What?" Flack calmly pressed. "Scared to break a nail or something?"

She shot him a grin. "I'm not the one who just got off of sick bay here."

Flack rolled his eyes at her. "Doc's cleared me. And it's not like we're gonna play a full game."

"From what I know, you were only cleared for desk duty," Stella clarified, taking the ball from his hands eyes fixed on him.

"Aha. Checking in on my file, Stella?"

She merely cast him a enigmatic smile. Then she stood there for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. After a few moments, she spoke up.

"Tell you what," she declared, a glitter in her eyes. "Let's just shoot some hoops. We'll take turns, ask a question. If our shot goes in, the other would have to answer their question." She clapped the ball between her hands. "How's that?"

Flack eyed her warily. "What're you up to, Stel?" He felt that he had nothing to hide, but he also knew that she has this way of putting someone in the spot when she wanted to.

"Oh, nothing!" came her easy reply. "We have some time on our hands. Why not make it a bit more interesting?" She gazed at him tauntingly. "You're not gonna chicken out, are you?"

"Right," he said with a snort as he shrugged off his jacket. It wasn't as if he can weasel his way out of this. It should be a simple Q & A, shouldn't it?

"Okay, I'll go first," Stella announced as Flack returned, rolling up his shirt sleeves. And before Flack could object, she hefted the ball over her right shoulder, and launched the ball. It sailed across the air without even touching the ring.

Flack felt a smirk emerging as he went after the ball. "Damn, Stella! You shoot like a girl."

"It takes me a while to get into the game," she replied, nonplussed. She stood to the side as Flack took his place in front of the net.

Giving the ball a few dribbles, Flack made the shot. It went neatly through the net. He turned to an expecting Stella.

Not really prepared with a question, Flack asked the first thing that came to his mind. "Do you always do this when a case gets to you?"

Stella gave pause before answering. "No... well, sometimes," she admitted. "I just needed to step away for a little bit, then come back when I have my head on straight." She picked up the ball.

"You mean your emotions," Flack corrected. He stepped aside as Stella stepped up in his place.

Her brow furrowed slightly. "Did I say that?" She took the shot, the ball bounding off the backboard before going in.

Flack spread his arms. "Shoot."

Stella pursed her lips. "How are you feeling lately? Really?"

He gave a disparaging snort. "Really, Stella..." He's had enough questions asking about his health for the past two months.

She cocked a finely-arched brow at him. "Hey, the ball went in, I get to ask. And that also meant I get no BS, either."

He grinned nervously. "Aw, now you're making the rules up..."

"Oh please. This is not high school, Flack. We're both adults. Just answer the question."

He regarded her for a few moments, then answered. "I feel fine most of the time. Stings when it's cold. The doc still wants me to stick to my diet though." He made a face at that. "There, satisfied?"

She smiled in approval. "Very." She passed the ball at him. "Your turn."

He took his time with his aim. "Have you been able to sleep well at night after that incident with Frankie?"

Stella stared at the ring long after the ball went through it. "Not really, not at first," she answered slowly. "The first night after you wrapped up the case, I couldn't close my eyes without seeing him standing there." She drew in a breath. "Staying over at my sister's for a while helped a bit." Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

Flack nodded, not wanting her to continue further, if not for her sake. He got the feeling that she was not over that episode of her life just yet.

"You're up." He made a bounce-pass to her.

As Stella came up for her shot, Flack observed her shooting posture was better than the last one. But he did not make a comment as she made the basket.

"Do you or did you have nightmares about the bombing?"

Back at me, huh? he thought in amusement. "Who wouldn't? It was a good thing that I only remembered bits and pieces. If you'da told me everything the first few days, it might've been worse."

She regarded him thoughtfully. "You don't get them anymore?"

"No," he said, then quickly added, "so it's a one shot-two question rule now?" He shot her lopsided grin.

"A girl's gotta try," she beamed impishly.

As his shot went in, Flack considered the thought he had earlier. "Did ya learn how to shoot while on the cheering squad?"

That earned a laugh from Stella. "No, thankfully." After a moment, she asked: "So you think I'm cheerleading material, huh?"

His shrug let it answer for him. He couldn't trust himself with what he might say.

As they switched places, Flack watched her form again. She didn't miss. He surmised she might have been the athletic type when she was younger.

"So how are you and your dad coming along?"

Flack looked up abruptly, taken unaware. He hadn't really spoken to anyone about his parents except for Gavin, who pretty much knew of his stiff relationship with his dad. Although the subject might have come up on a few occasions that he couldn't recall.

"Fine as it can be, I guess." He thrust his hands in his pockets as he stared off at a distance.

Stella tilted her head slightly. "That's... not really a definite answer."

Flack put up a hand with a slightly shamefaced grin. "My dad and I... haven't really been seeing things eye to eye, so to speak," he began. "And since the bombing incident, well, our communication lines have opened up a bit."

Stella's features softened, giving him a warm smile. "That's good, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he drawled, "until he calls and tells me that Mom wants to visit." He sighed in exasperation.

"They're your parents, Flack," she pointed out. "They worry. It's an automatic parent mechanism."

Flack stopped himself from making a comeback. He flinched inwardly, reminded that Stella was orphaned early. His new-found lease in life made him feel closer to his folks, specially his distraught mother. But no adult male really liked to be pampered to death.

"Okay, me." With a quick dribble, he sent the ball sailing through the net.

Stella made a sound of admiration. "You haven't missed."

"Don't intend to," he shot back smugly. "Now. The poser: Will there be anyone for you after Frankie?"

Her brows almost reached her hairline as she cooed. "So you're my new girlfriend now, huh?"

"A question's a question, Stel," he answered with a laugh. "I think people still have this kind of conversation after high school."

"Well, of course, there would be," she answered gamely. "Not real soon. But, one day." She ended with an assured nod.

"Considered going for someone younger?" he put in slyly.

She gaped at him in open shock. "Going for someo--is that waiting for an invitation I hear, Donald Flack, Jr.?" She waited expectantly, hands on her hips.

He had the decency to wince, belatedly realizing how awkward his question came out. For all he cared, it was an innocent question! He couldn't believe she read more into it, but dared not to laugh in her face. And when she used his name on him, well, it glaringly reminded him of his mother when she was trying to get her way with him. So he let her have her way for now.

"I'm not gonna answer that," she added curtly.

Flack nodded in understanding. "So that's a 'maybe'."

She gave him an incredulous look. "Don't put words in my mouth, Flack."

"Then just answer my question. It's a simple 'yes' or 'no'," he put in casually.

Her lips formed a thin line. "I plead the one basket/one question rule."

"O-kay," he put his arms up in defeat.

As he passed her as he took his position under the basket, he couldn't resist another jibe. "I still think it's a 'maybe'," he mumbled.

"Just shut up and pass the ball," she cut him off, a playful smirk on her face as she caught the basketball.

"Whoa." It was Flack's turn to gape when Stella launched the ball as soon as she got in. It bounced off the ring a few times before it went in. "We really mean business, do we?"

"Oh yeah," she answered with a simper. "Do you still think of Aiden?"

Flack felt his features fall slightly. "Where the hell did this come from?"

"A question's a question," she shot his earlier remark back at him.

"Well, I miss her," he let out with a sigh. "We used to hang out, you know, on Fridays, after she left. Last time we talked, she was bragging about this new guy she was dating." It still gave Flack pause to speak of her in the past tense; a painful reminder that it was all Aiden was now: past. "At least then, she wasn't bitching about not finding a man that had a dick for brains."

Stella burst out laughing that Flack shrugged at her. "I was quoting Aiden," he supplied laconically.

"Why didn't you date her, then?" she asked when she was able to talk.

His eyes must have bugged out when Stella began to giggle. "Are you nuts? Date someone in the force? Then have her bust my nuts if I ditched her?"

"I'm sure she was capable of that," Stella bubbled, "but I don't think she could have done that to you."

Flack wasn't assured by that, but it filled him with sorrow that he will never find that out. He loved Aiden as a dear friend, and had never thought of crossing that sacred boundary to see if there could be something more. It just hurt that all he was left with were a whole lot of 'could have beens'.

They stood there in silence, Stella with a lingering smile on her face, as if reliving a pleasant memory, while Flack flicked the ball between his hands, unsure of how to continue.

It was Stella who broke the stilted silence. "Listen, I gotta go," she announced as she glanced at her watch. "I needed to check up on what Hawkes found out about the body." She quickly ran a hand over her hair, and gave her jacket a quick tug. "You'll be hanging around here for a while?"

"Yeah," he replied, shifting his weight to one foot.. "Until the Chief hauls my ass off to his office, I guess."

Stella gave a short laugh, tossed her head at him. "Take it easy, you hear?"

"Yes, ma'am!" He offered a mock salute.

Instead of leaving right away, Stella drew near, and leaned closer.

"Actually," she revealed in a stage whisper, "the cheering squad cheered for our team when I played forward for the women's team." She gave a wink, then sauntered away.

Flack was left standing there without a witty retort. _Well, I'll be _damned.

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_End?_


End file.
